Honestly, I feel like we are a walking protest. The fact that

“Honestly, I feel like we are a walking protest. The fact that we're women professional athletes says that in and of itself. We've been feeling the inequality; we've been struggling with pay equality or whatever it is, or sexism in sports.” Thus spoke Megan Rapinoe, champion of the field and warrior for justice, whose words thunder beyond the stadium and into the hearts of all who long for fairness. Her voice reminds us that sometimes simply existing, simply standing, simply excelling in a world that would deny you, becomes an act of protest. To play the game, to claim the field, to demand recognition, is itself resistance against the ancient chains of inequality.

From the days of old, women have labored under systems that denied them full voice, full power, full place in society. The Greeks barred them from the Olympics; the Romans restricted them to the private sphere; even in later ages, women’s bodies were told they belonged only to the home. Yet they rose still—running, leaping, fighting, working, refusing to be silenced. Rapinoe stands in this lineage. To her, every stride upon the pitch, every goal scored, is not merely a victory in sport but a declaration: women belong here, and their worth is no less than men’s.

The meaning of her words lies in the understanding that inequality is not only written in law, but etched in wages, in opportunities, in the subtle and overt dismissals of a society that pretends to celebrate women while denying them fairness. When Rapinoe says, “we are a walking protest,” she names the truth that women athletes, simply by playing, are visible reminders of a battle still unfinished. Their presence unsettles those who cling to old hierarchies, for it shows that talent, discipline, and greatness know no gender.

History offers us a powerful mirror in the life of Billie Jean King, who, in 1973, faced Bobby Riggs in the legendary “Battle of the Sexes.” That match was more than tennis—it was a symbol of women’s defiance against dismissal and ridicule. By defeating Riggs, King proved what had always been true: that women’s strength is not a shadow but a flame. Yet even after that triumph, the struggles continued—unequal pay, smaller audiences, lesser recognition. Rapinoe’s voice echoes King’s, reminding us that the fight persists across generations.

And her words are not of bitterness but of courage. To call oneself a walking protest is to accept both burden and honor. It is to recognize that one’s very life is testimony, that one’s labor is also a message to the world. Rapinoe and her teammates did not merely fight for trophies; they fought for contracts, for wages, for respect. Their battle reached courts of law as well as courts of play, and their victory in 2022—securing equal pay with their male counterparts—was a triumph not just for themselves, but for all who labor under inequality.

The lesson here is profound: true protest does not always roar with banners and marches—it can also walk, run, and play. It can dwell in the ordinary and the extraordinary acts of those who refuse to be diminished. To live authentically, to demand one’s rightful place, to persist in the face of dismissal—this too is rebellion. The athlete, the worker, the artist, the student—all who continue in spaces that resist them become, in Rapinoe’s words, a living protest.

Practical wisdom follows: in your own life, ask yourself—what does my presence declare? Am I silent before injustice, or does my daily striving speak against it? Support those who labor for equity—in sport, in work, in life. Praise their courage, amplify their voices, and demand fairness alongside them. For equality is not given freely; it is won by those who, like Rapinoe, dare to live as symbols of resistance.

Thus Megan Rapinoe’s words, fierce and unyielding, are a call to us all. Inequality still walks among us, but so too does protest—embodied in every woman who refuses to be silenced, every athlete who takes the field despite the odds, every soul who declares by their living: “I will not be less.” Let us learn, then, to walk as protests ourselves—courageous, visible, and unafraid—until justice is not the dream of a few, but the inheritance of all.